Youthful Passion

Recapturing youthful passions is a wishful quest at best.

There was a time that the ranch hand loved fishing more than any thing one could imagine. Carefree days spent at water's edge oblivious to the woes of the world.

Regretfully, the passage of time evolved priorities and interests to other less focused areas of trivial pursuit.

In the last year, the pond on the Tin Star was deepened and reshaped to await the Lord's blessing of bountiful rain. That blessing has occurred over the last month and the ole waterin' hole is energetically running over the spillway like a schoolchild fleeing to summer vacation.

Come the spring, life will be added to this adventure with the addition of catfish, bream, and whatever from the local fish farm.

Oh that the long lost passion of fishing known in the days as a yonker could be recaptured...surely that magic for the ole fat boy is but a hook, line, and grasshopper away?

Warrior Legacy

The Tin Star Ranch continued its legacy as a hallowed battle ground this wet October day.

Despite the pasture bog created by days of rain, two combatants squared off to commence the ancient ritual of antler jousts.

The heavier of the two enjoyed a weight advantage, eight sharp points of protein enriched horns, and confidence built on the experience of past endeavors.

The slender six point buck eagerly welcomed the coming challenge, secure in his youthful ignorance of the improbable "mountain" he was about to ascend. Simply stated, testosterone fueled his courage while genetics mapped his strategy, but his bravado was about to write a check his butt couldn't cash.

Head to head with their paws churning the soggy turf, the two forest warriors locked horns, pushed, shoved, and gouged repeatedly while searching for the advantage to vanquish the opponent.

Inevitably, the youngun' had enough spirit, but the old guy had the guile and physical skills to prevail.

Such is life.

GLADIATORS

The rising sun provided a crisp contrast to the chill in the air as the post dawn battle raged this fine morning.

Genetically inspired by decades of combat, the participants fought without a conscious cause. Neither anger nor coveted prize drove their fierce charges. They eagerly marshaled strength to vanquish their opponent because it has always been so.

These warriors were young in years, but none the less daring in their chosen quest. Thrusts, parries, mocking moves, and all out charges across the turf of the battleground ruled the moment.

And just as quickly, the pair amiably retired to their chosen repast and side by side mused as to the quality of their yellow corn breakfast.

The casual stance of the four point implied his belief in established supremacy, while the cocky sidelong glance of the spike promised future battle.

Such has it always been in nature's natural selection process for future generation sires on the Tin Star Ranch.

THE BARITONE

With sincere apologies to the ladies, there is something about the bond between a man and his tractor that few can fathom.

Ole Big Dawg (the ranch hand's Kubota) hit 300 hours recently and thus needed "servicing". Yeah, crawl around on the floor of the barn to change the engine oil, grease the fittings, and generally adjust the various "stuff". All hands on, all DIRTY-GREASY....and just plain soul satisfying (even for an old fat boy)?

The power and music that puppy makes when working is more than worth any "inconvenience" in its care and maintenance. It is a tried, true, and trusted friend. It is a faithful and always available tool.

The only missing element of this "dream come true" is if Daddy could be here to enjoy ole Big Dawg with me.

I miss Dad every day and can't help but think he grins every time I fire up my ole orange tractor with its diesel baritone voice.